The Blake Adventures: Minutes in Heaven
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: In their first public foray following their engagement, Jean and Lucien are confronted with yet another murder to solve. But with an old enemy in the mix and a criminal just released from jail, can they work together to find the killer?
1. Chapter 1

**The Blake Adventures: Minutes in Heaven**

 _December 1959_

"Lucien, are you ready to go?"

Glancing at his reflection in the mirror one last time, Lucien Blake fumbled with his bowtie and gave himself a satisfied nod. "On my way, Mattie!" he called back. Exiting his bedroom, Lucien found Mattie waiting for him. "My, don't you look pretty?" he gushed, admiring her purple-pink gown, overlaid with pale lavender tulle.

She gave a proud little spin. "Thank you! And you're looking quite dapper this evening," she told him, smiling at his tuxedo.

"Is my tie straight? I can never seem to manage it," he complained.

"Come here, I'll take care of it." A new voice joined their conversation. Mattie and Lucien turned to see Jean come down the stairs.

Lucien's jaw dropped. "Jean," he breathed.

"It's rude to gawk, Lucien," she scolded lightly. But as her fingers reached up to straighten his tie, the sparkle in her turquoise-gray eyes told him that she appreciated his reaction. She'd made the dress herself, following a wildly difficult pattern and remeasuring herself about a hundred times to ensure it would fit properly. The shimmering pale blue satin hugged her every curve and the skirt swished delightfully when she moved. The neckline was perhaps a bit low-cut, but the embellished bow on her shoulder took attention away from the décolletage she was sporting. Besides, she had a diamond engagement ring on her finger. She didn't much mind showing a bit more of her figure than usual.

"You look incredible," he murmured. Lucien took her hands in his and pressed a soft kiss to her fingertips. "If we weren't already late, I'd take you upstairs and…"

"Lucien!" she hissed, her eyes darting over to where Mattie was standing within earshot.

Their young lodger tried not to laugh, but she had the tact to walk past them toward the door. "Shall we go?"

Lucien sighed, "I suppose we should. Wouldn't want to be too tardy."

"Susan wouldn't hear of it," Jean added bitterly. She was still very much of two minds in attending the Tyneman Christmas party. It was the first time she'd ever been invited. And it was the first proper public event she would be attending as Lucien's fiancée; it had been nearly three weeks since he proposed, but in all the fallout from the Begonia Festival, they'd been keeping at home as much as possible. But they couldn't very well skip this party. It wouldn't be proper. The whole town would be there, and Patrick had asked Jean specifically if she would be attending. The invitation was addressed to Dr. Lucien Blake and Mrs. Jean Beazley. Charlie had received an invitation of his own, as had Mattie, much to her surprise. This year, it seemed, the Tynemans had invited the entire town.

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived. Mattie found her friends and Lucien led Jean to the bar so they could get a fortifying drink before entering the fray.

"I thought I'd see you here eventually."

Lucien handed Jean a sherry and took a sip of his scotch before he turned to see Alice Harvey standing in the corner, sipping a martini. "Ah, Doctor Harvey, good evening to you!" He greeted her warmly and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Her widened eyes told everyone that she hadn't expected such a gesture.

"I'm glad to see someone I know, finally," she said, once Lucien had gotten to a respectable distance.

Jean frowned. "You're not here by yourself, are you?"

Alice shifted uncomfortably. "Matthew Lawson was supposed to accompany me, but his leg was bothering him, so I had to come alone."

"Well, it's his loss. You look beautiful. I love that dress," Jean complimented.

"You're far too nice to me, Jean. I did the best I could, but I can't ever seem to find anything that suits me properly. However did you find a gown so perfect?" Alice asked.

"Oh, well, I made it," Jean admitted.

Lucien beamed proudly, wrapping his arm around his fiancée's waist.

Alice sighed, musing aloud, "You know, I can sew up a body but I've never actually tried to sew fabric."

Seeing the startled look on Jean's face, Lucien thought it best to steer away. He put their empty glasses on the bar and excused them. "Alice, we'll come back and find you in a little while. Jean's promised to dance with me."

"Oh, have I?" she teased as he ushered her to the dancefloor.

"Yes, as a part of accepting my marriage proposal, you've implicitly promised to dance with me at every possible opportunity."

Jean merely beamed happily in response. It was ever so exciting to be his fiancée. To be engaged to marry Lucien Blake. She loved him so much, she thought she might burst at the very thought of it sometimes. To think that it had only been about two years earlier that they'd met. He was petulant and odd, an outrageous taciturn drunk without a thought to anyone or anything that wasn't at the forefront of his attention. And she had been rigid and repressed, adhering to what was expected of her so she could survive in a world that sought to punish her for the inner workings of her mind and the yearnings of her heart. Before Lucien, Jean was relegated to her position as a widow housekeeper, trying to hold her head high amidst the whispers that had followed her all her life. Pregnant before she got married. Sent her husband off to his death in the war. Sons who abandoned her, one a criminal and one a stodgy soldier. All of it had been her burden to bear in silence. But Lucien had freed her. She certainly had even more whispers to ignore once he came around, but none of it bothered her anymore. Lucien had softened from her influence, opening his eyes to those around him and respecting Ballarat and more of the people in it. And in return, he had allowed her to be clever and useful and all the things she'd never been allowed to be before. Yes, she was free when she was with him. And through that freedom and the loving partnership they'd begun to forge between them, Jean had given herself to him, wholly and completely. A few times a week, in fact. In the study when no one was home. Sneaking down to his bedroom in the dead of night or him sneaking up to hers. Lucien had given her the freedom to give in to her passions, and she loved him all the more for it.

She felt at home in his arms, dancing amidst all the glitz and glamor—or as much of it as Ballarat could provide. He twirled her around the floor in perfect time to the music, swaying her to the rhythm. Jean pressed her cheek to his, bringing them closer together. Perhaps closer than was proper, but why oh why should she mind that now?

"What's he doing here?" Lucien growled.

Jean took half a step away from him and turned to follow his gaze. And there, standing off to the side of the room in conversation with Patrick Tyenman, was none other than William Munro. The former Chief Superintendent had that same perpetual scowl on his face, and despite having been practically run out of Ballarat in disgrace, here he was at Christmas in a tuxedo.

"I have half a mind to wring his bloody neck," Lucien continued, his voice low and dangerous as the tendrils of rage clutched at him.

"Ignore him," Jean insisted. "Don't let him spoil our night."

"Not like how he spoiled your birthday."

"A murder spoiled my birthday," she reminded him. "But Munro did make it worse, yes, I'll grant you that."

Lucien was still grumbling with annoyance. And Jean couldn't have that.

She murmured quietly in his ear so only he could hear her, "I love when you hold me in your arms while we dance. Almost as much as I love when you hold me in your arms while you're inside me."

He was so shocked, he stumbled over his own feet.

Jean had already pushed herself past the initial embarrassment of speaking in such a way, and she appreciated Lucien's response. And she wasn't ready to stop yet. "The way you move, Lucien, it's intoxicating. All your gorgeous muscles and the thrust of your hips into mine. The touch of your hand is like an electric shock."

Lucien was recovering now, eager to join in on her naughty game. "Tell me how you like me to touch you, Jean," he whispered back to her, pulling her body flush against him as they continued to dance.

"When you drum your fingers over my ribs. When you squeeze my thighs. When your fingers tease me…there."

He was going to be shamefully hard by the time they finished this, but he had no desire to dissuade her. Quite the opposite in fact. "What else do you like?"

"Your lips and your tongue. The scratch of your beard on my breasts and between my legs and everywhere else. I can still feel you hours later, and I love it. I love thinking of how you make me yours."

"And I am yours," he vowed, practically panting with arousal. All thoughts of Munro had flown from his mind. All that existed was Jean. Jean in his arms, in that dress, and how he could get her out of it—or at least get himself under it—as soon as possible. "Let's go home."

"We can't leave Mattie," she reminded him. "But I bet we can find a room somewhere. It's an awfully big house. I'm sure there's a dark, quiet place for us somewhere."

"My god, I love you," he groaned. He gave a subtle thrust against her so she could plainly feel what she did to him.

"Mmm," she hummed in appreciation. She took a quick nip of his earlobe as they danced their way to the edge of the room and subtly down the hallway.

Lucien practically dragged her up the stairs and into the first door he could find. Linen closet. Perfect. "Jean, I need you," he whispered desperately before he kissed her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth.

"Yes, Lucien, take me," she begged in between his ardent kisses. They couldn't do much in such a small space with the party right downstairs, but that didn't deter them. Her nimble fingers found their way to his trousers, pulling down the zip so she could free his hardness.

He moaned against her neck as she stroked him. He clutched her hips tightly as he sucked hard against her pulse point, eliciting a breathy groan from her.

"Please," she whispered, needing to feel him deep inside her.

Lucien pulled away from her only enough to grab the voluminous fabric of her dress and find his way to her body underneath. He grabbed the back of her thigh and hitched her leg over his hip. Her knickers were dripping wet, so he moved the fabric aside to thrust into her. She shuddered in his arms from the suddenness of his entry. It took everything in him to hold off, to stay still while she adjusted to him. But as soon as she shifted her hips against him and exhaled in a pleasured sigh, he withdrew almost completely and pounded into her in earnest. She met his thrusts with her own, clutching the fabric of his jacket and clinging to him. Her hot breath on his neck was coming in high-pitched pants as he built her up higher and higher until she broke, shattering around him, her body clenching him in rolling waves of pleasure. His pace took on a frenzied rhythm as he followed her to ecstasy.

Their hearts were pounding as they breathed heavily, still holding one another tightly. Lucien was softening inside Jean but couldn't bear to part from her just yet. She stood on one leg, leaning against him as her entire body buzzed from her release. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he replied breathily. Neither of their voices seemed to work, which was probably just as well.

Outside the door, a woman screamed.

Jean and Lucien stumbled in surprise, and he slipped out of her. Jean shifted uncomfortably and immediately grabbed the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and cleaned herself up before she got stains on her dress. He rearranged himself in his trousers and shoved the soiled handkerchief inside the inner pocket of his jacket. It wouldn't do to use it as a pocket square anymore.

They both exited the closet in order to investigate, just in time for William Munro to walk up the stairs and see them. Jean followed his sharp gaze to the lipstick stains all over Lucien's beard and to her own neck where, she was fairly certain, Lucien had left a rather substantial lovebite. She swallowed hard, trying to rearrange her hair a bit to hide it.

"William, so lovely to have you back in Ballarat. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Lucien greeted with feigned enthusiasm.

"I don't think I've got anything to do with your pleasure, Doctor Blake," Munro replied snidely.

Jean was rather certain she'd die of embarrassment. She averted her eyes to the floor in a vain attempt to hide her blush.

"I believe there's been a disturbance up here. Nothing you caused, I take it?" Munro continued.

"We came to see what was the matter as well," Lucien said, ignoring the way his old enemy was baiting him.

The three rounded the corner to see Susan Tyneman shaking and crying. Jean immediately went to her side. "Susan, what's the matter?"

Susan just pointed into the doorway.

There, on the floor, was a young woman with dark hair and pale skin and painted red lips, wearing only a silk slip and her underthings. Her eyes were wide open and there was a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead.

"What the devil is going on?" Patrick Tyneman came blustering in. "Blake? Munro? Susan?" He saw the dead girl and stopped. "Jesus," he whispered. "Where's Edward?"


	2. Chapter 2

"What's going on?" Edward Tyneman had just run up the stairs.

Lucien glared at him but said nothing. The man couldn't have been back in town more than a week and already gotten in the middle of more trouble with a young woman.

Edward pushed past everyone, nearly bowling Jean over. She put a calming hand on Lucien's arm to keep him from making a fuss over it. They didn't need any more attention drawn to them at this moment.

"Janice!" Edward cried. He ran to the woman and took her in his arms.

"Who is she, Patrick?" Lucien asked quietly.

"Don't really know, actually. She arrived with Edward yesterday. They met after he was released last month, in Melbourne. He brought her home for the holiday to meet us. And he asked me for my mother's ring to give her," Patrick replied.

Jean had never had much affection for any of the Tynemans, what with the way the upper class always tended to treat her, being a farm girl and a housekeeper all her life, but she'd liked Edward least of all of them. Particularly after he'd gotten in trouble for making pornography and abusing the local girls. But to see him sobbing over the dead body of a woman he had intended to marry caused Jean's heart to soften for him.

Lucien jumped into action. "Patrick, make sure no one leaves the party. Everyone in the house is a suspect at the moment, assuming the killer hasn't left already. Jean, go find Charlie and Frank and Bill. They should all be here. And William…" Lucien turned to Munro with a slight air of disgust. "I don't believe you're a policeman anymore, so you've got no authority over this situation. However, if you'd like to make yourself useful, I'm sure Chief Superintendent Carlyle can put you to work." Munro nodded, and Lucien waved him off. "Go with Jean. I'm going to have Susan and Edward stay here with me."

Munro followed Jean and Patrick Tyneman back downstairs. Patrick went to speak with his staff to keep all the exits locked and monitored. Jean led Munro through the crowds to find members of the police force.

"I see you and the Doctor are just as close as ever, Mrs. Beazely."

It took everything in Jean to be polite. "We're engaged to be married. Next month, actually," she replied proudly.

"Hmm."

She frowned at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. She shouldn't open her personal life to being the topic of conversation, particularly not with the man who'd had it out for Lucien from the moment he'd arrived in town.

"I suppose you've had quite the influence on each other. I would have never imagined I'd see your lipstick all over his face in public, but I also never imagined he'd ever put a ring on your finger."

"People can change," Jean replied, holding her head up high, praying that would be the end of the conversation.

"Can I take that to mean you believe I could change as well?"

"You're not showing much evidence of it so far."

Munro took Jean's arm and pulled her off to the side, away from the crowd. "Mrs. Beazley, believe it or not, I have changed. After those corruption charges, I left the police force. I'm a private detective now. And I am in Ballarat following a suspect of my own."

"Who?" Jean asked, eyes wide with interest.

"Everything alright here, Mrs. Beazley?"

They turned to see Charlie, looking very smart in his tuxedo, approaching, clearly concerned to see Jean with Munro's hand on her. He immediately let her go. "Davis."

"Sir," Charlie greeted with a stiff nod.

"Charlie, there's been a death. Lucien's sent for you and Frank and Bill."

"Who is it?"

"Edward Tyenman's girlfriend," Jean told Charlie.

The young sergeant went to collect his colleagues, and they all headed upstairs. They found Susan clutching her son, who sobbed into her shoulder. Lucien was crouched down with the girl, Janice. Jean immediately went to Lucien's side. "Shall I find Alice as well?"

"Not just yet. But knowing her, she'll find her way to us first."

"Blake, what's going on?" Frank Carlyle asked, asserting his authority over the situation.

"Edward's girlfriend has been shot through the forehead. Susan found the body. That's all we know so far," Lucien told him.

"When was she killed? Did anyone hear the shot?" Bill Hobart intelligently asked.

No one piped up with an answer. Munro looked from Jean to Lucien. "Weren't you up here, Blake? Or was Mrs. Beazley distracting your attention? I shouldn't be surprised what with how she's tarted herself up for you since I was last here. Though perhaps it's not just for you…"

Anything else Munro was about to say was cut off by Lucien's fist colliding with the man's jaw.

"Lucien!" Jean shrieked, being unprepared for violence breaking out. The sting of Munro's words hasn't quite sunk in yet, but Lucien's reaction was swift.

"Blake!" Frank barked, stepping between Lucien and his foe, ending any further bloodshed.

Munro stumbled back, holding his face. He made to retaliate but Patrick Tyneman's great bulk prevented that. "William, you were, until this moment, a guest in my home. How dare you disparage Mrs. Beazley!? If the whole party weren't murder suspects, I'd throw you out myself. Now, you apologize to Jean!"

"Apologies," he muttered bitterly.

"I shouldn't think we'll need your assistance, Mr. Munro," Frank said.

Munro went back downstairs. He was pushed out of the way by Dr. Harvey, running up to see what was the matter.

"Oh. I was right to come, wasn't I?"

Lucien recovered from his blind rage over defending Jean's honor to smile. "Yes, it looks like we're working this evening, Alice."

"Thank god," she replied, grateful to not mill about aimlessly at a party anymore.

Everyone got to work. Lucien and Alice examined the body. Patrick took Susan and Edward to another room to keep them quiet. Frank directed Charlie and Bill to begin looking for suspects. They'd probably need to interview every guest and servant at the party.

Jean, meanwhile, didn't have any official duty. And after being casually referred to as a loose woman in front of her fiancé, his colleagues, and the most influential family in Ballarat, she didn't much fancy being amongst them anymore. She went back downstairs to rejoin the party, hoping to indicate calm to the rest of the room.

"Is everything alright? Jean, what's going on? I saw Charlie and Bill and Frank go upstairs." Mattie grabbed Jean's arm and asked rapid-fire questions with great concern.

"There's been a death. They're looking into it. We've all just got to stay here and not make a fuss while they work," Jean instructed, patting the younger woman's hand.

Mattie did not seem to be persuaded by that counsel, but she stayed quiet and chose not to ask any more questions.

In the quiet din of the party, Jean's mind began to wander. She processed Munro's earlier comments. And what was worse than what he'd said was the truth buried within the insult. She certainly wasn't whoring around Ballarat by any means, but Lucien had compromised her virtue. Many, many times. And she'd allowed it to happen. Lucien loved her, and he showed her in every way, and if she had insisted they remain chaste until after their wedding, he would have respected her wishes. Neither of them would have been too happy about it, but she knew he wouldn't have pressed her. They'd waited so long to find their way, another month wouldn't have deterred them. But she had given in to her passions, her base desires for him. She had sinned, and there was no way around it.

Munro was right. She had changed since he'd last been in Ballarat. The woman she was before her attempt to move to Adelaide wasn't the same woman who had an engagement ring on her finger from Lucien Blake. And as happy as she was, the recognized that her joy was tainted by shame.

But then, more words worked their way to the forefront of her mind. What was it Munro had been saying before Charlie interrupted, before the unpleasantness? He was following a suspect? He hadn't said who. And now, after Lucien had assaulted him and Patrick practically tossed him out, she was the only one who knew that William Munro might actually be of some use. Loath as she was to do it, Jean left Mattie's side to look for him.

Slowly, the three police officers were interviewing each and every person in the Tyneman house. Jean maneuvered around the ballroom and the hallways and finally the kitchen in search of the one man she needed but didn't want to find. She finally saw him in the butler's pantry, holding a cloth full of ice on his face. Jean couldn't help but feel a bit pleased that he was obviously in pain.

"Mrs. Beazely," he growled.

She skipped any sort of pleasantry. "Mr. Munro, you were telling me earlier that you'd been following a suspect to Ballarat. And now there's been a murder. Is it your opinion that the two might be linked? That perhaps your suspect killed that girl?"

To her surprise, Munro smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Beazley, I do think my suspect killed that girl. Actually, there's no doubt in my mind it was him."

"Shouldn't you tell the police?"

"They didn't ask. I'm not welcome, didn't you hear?"

If Jean were a different sort of person, she would have slapped him across the face herself. "Would you mind telling me who you believe the killer is and why?" she asked, trying desperately to keep her composure.

"His name is Alfred Phipps. He was in prison with Edward Tyneman, released around the same time. He was a serial killer, but he was only convicted of breaking and entering. No one's been able to get him on a murder charge, though he might have had upwards of twelve victims. He likes to brutally rape young women like that girl upstairs. The last victim was right after he was released from prison, and her family hired me to catch him. Looks like I was too late to prevent him doing it again."

"And this Alfred Phipps is here?"

"He's gotta be. I followed him on the train to Ballarat with Edward, but I've tried not to let on that I'm after him."

Jean paused for a moment, thinking. "Thank you, Mr. Munro." She turned on her heel and went right back upstairs. She had some questions for Lucien, based on what Munro had just told her.

"Ah, Jean, I'd wondered where you'd run off to. Everything alright?" Lucien asked, looking up from where Alice were examining Janice's body and put down the mangled pillow he was holdding. Jean stood in the doorway, watching them for a moment.

"Lucien, can I speak to you for a moment?" she asked.

"Of course, my darling." He joined her out in the hall. "What is it, Jean?"

"Was that girl raped?" she asked quietly.

He was taken aback by the bluntness of her question. "What? No, of course not!"

"You're sure?"

"Well, she still had her underthings on…"

"I think we've just proved that a person can manage just fine with their underthings still on," she pointed out.

"Oh. Well, I'll have to check. That wasn't a theory we had. What have you learned?" he asked her.

Jean told him what Munro had said about Alfred Phipps. "Even if he didn't rape her, I think it's worth investigating whether he might have murdered her anyway."

Lucien agreed wholeheartedly. He rushed into the room down the hall where the Tynemans were keeping themselves for the time being. Jean followed right behind him. "Edward," Lucien said without preamble, "are you friends with a man named Alfred Phipps?"

"Alfie, yeah. He didn't have anywhere to go for the holiday so I brought him with me and Janice for the week."

"Where is he, Edward?" Lucien pressed.

"Why, what's he got to do with this?"

Jean interjected with a soft tone, placing her hand on Lucien's arm to keep him calm. "Edward, do you know why Alfie was in prison?"

"Yeah, he broke into his girlfriend's place because he though she might be sneaking around on him."

"And did he tell you what he did to her?" Lucien asked rather indelicately.

"What are you talking about? What's Alfie got to do with this?" Edward asked angrily.

"We need to know where he is," Lucien insisted.

"Tell me why!" Edward bellowed. Susan clutched her chest, shocked by her distraught son's outburst.

"Because he's a suspected serial killer who may have raped and murdered a dozen women in Melbourne," Lucien finally admitted.

A fire grew in Edward's face. He stood up and hurried out of the room, pushing Lucien into the wall on his way down the stairs. Everyone followed him, including Patrick, Susan, Jean, and Lucien.

Edward thundered through the house, shouting for Alfie. The police officers came from their make-shift interview room to see the fuss. There wasn't much anyone could to do subdue Edward; the whole house was locked down at Patrick's command, so Edward's efforts would likely be of some assistance. Lucien explained the situation to Frank as they went.

Finally, they entered the kitchen. Everyone stopped in their tracks. There, standing by the stove, was Alfred Phipps. He had a gun in his hand, and it was pointed right at William Munro's head.

"Hello, Edward," Alfred greeted cheerily. "I think you lot should let me leave out the back, and I'll never bother you again."

Edward was practically vibrating with rage. "Alfie, did you kill Janice?"

The armed man threw his head back in laughter. "'Course I did! Sweet little thing like that, couldn't let you have all the fun. Not after I could hear the kind of noises she made."

"Did you…violate her?" Edward choked out.

"Nah, didn't get the chance. Almost got her naked before I heard people coming up the stairs, so I threw her on the bed and covered her face with a pillow and shot her. Keeping everything nice and quiet," Alfred explained.

The arrogance of the confession was shocking. No one quiet knew what to do. Munro, of all people, broke the silence. "Would someone just shoot the bastard!?" he grumbled.

Unfortunately, Alfred Phipps was the only one with a gun. Even if they were all ready to sacrifice Munro, Alfred would be able to get away by shooting at the rest of them. Lucien's mind was swimming trying to find an answer.

Jean, however, was standing in the back of the group beside Patrick. "Have you got a gun anywhere?" she whispered to him, hoping not to attract Alfred's attention.

"Cabinet in the basement," Patrick whispered back. He would have gone himself, but his absence would have been noticed. Jean's, however, would not. She snuck out of the room and hurried down to the basement, praying she could get her hands on a firearm before it was too late.

"Let him go!" Jean shouted upon her return.

Everyone turned to see Jean in her beautiful gown holding a hunting rifle. There were several gasps of surprise as the group moved aside to let Jean through.

"Jean, let me…" Frank offered.

But Lucien held the chief superintendent back. "She's alright. She's done this before," he said proudly.

"I worked a farm all my life. I probably know how to use this better than you do. Now you unhand him, because even if you do shoot him, you won't be able to get past me."

Alfred considered his options for a moment and eventually shoved Munro to the ground. No one rushed to his rescue. The gun clattered to the floor. Bill and Charlie rushed forward to collect the firearm and apprehend the killer.

"Patrick, you can open up the house now. Might be a good time to end the party," Lucien suggested. "Jean, do you want to put that rifle down?"

His gentle voice broke through her steely demeanor. The tension of her shoulders dissipated as she handed the rifle to Frank Carlyle, who ensured it was returned to where it belonged. Jean leaned into Lucien's waiting embrace.

"Well done, Jean," he whispered, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead.

"Thank you, Mrs. Beazley." Munro had gotten himself up from the floor.

Lucien glared at him, interrupting their gentle moment. "That was more than you deserved," he snarled.

Jean didn't say anything but just clutched Lucien tighter, hoping to avoid any more conflict for the time being.

"Hmm, yes," Munro reluctantly agreed. He walked past them to leave the party and Ballarat, but he paused at the door. "I won't trouble you again."

"No, you won't," Lucien grumbled quietly.

When they were finally left alone for a moment, Jean stepped back, reclaiming her emotions. "Well, I'd say that was a bit more excitement than we were expecting from the Tynemans' Christmas party," she mused.

"Yes quite a bit more," Lucien chuckled.

She sighed, "I must say, I'm now quite pleased we'll be spending the next three weeks in Adelaide. I think it'll be good for us to avoid Ballarat for a while, what with our engagement and now the rumor of my lack of virtue."

Lucien nodded, agreeing that it would be best to be with her family and out of town until everyone found something else to talk about. "Speaking of your lack of virtue, I've made hotel reservations for us."

"Oh?"

"Yes, two rooms, since we aren't married yet."

Jean was pleased with his foresight but more than a bit disappointed that even away from prying eyes, they'd have to sneak around. "Probably for the best," she said resignedly.

"I made sure they were adjoining," he added.

It took everything in her to keep from beaming excitedly. Her eyes lit up, but she pursed her lips to prevent a smile. "For now, I think it's best if we just go home. We'll sort out the rest later. Let's go find Mattie and put this awful night behind us."

Lucien nodded. "Quite right." He offered Jean his arm, which she took, and they went out to face the world side by side.


End file.
